


Breaking Chains

by redspottywellies



Series: Famous Last Words [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Dystopia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redspottywellies/pseuds/redspottywellies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, even when someone acts exactly as expected, you still find yourself surprised. </p><p>Such is life. Especially when life involves a vengeful weapons manufacturer on a rampage and a dragon with anger-management issues. </p><p>Merlin honestly doesn't know why he thought this could turn out any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alcohol and Frantic Bullshitting Fix Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the sporadic updates, laptop was broken. It has now been fixed. This does not mean updates will be any less sporadic; I am very prone to writer's block. Apologies for that as well. 
> 
> This story is progressing a hell of a lot more slowly than I thought it would, which is ironic if you consider the last installment's summary. This is going to take a fuckin while, peeps. Buckle up. Or don't, idk.

**December 2008**

_"Hordes of pagans up and down the A360, further violence from magical extremists, and another successful bill passed through commons - it's Question Time."_

"For fuck's sake, change the channel, Lance," Gwaine grumbled over the excessively dramatic theme music coming from the small TV above the bar. "It'll just piss everyone off, they never actually debate anymore, it's just them pretending like we've still got anything even remotely resembling free speech."

"I want to see what they're saying about the new law," Lance protested, his eyes fixed on the screen as David Dimbleby introduced the panelists.

"Why? None of it's ever true," said a dejected-looking hedge witch who'd been nursing the same gin-and-tonic for half an hour.

"Yeah, but you can kind of see the shape of the truth by what lies they tell you," Lance insisted. "Besides, I heard a member of the shadow cabinet actually voted against the bill, and they didn't disappear right away. You've got to admit, that's something."

The witch shook her head with a cynical laugh. "Turn it off, mate. We come in here to drown our sorrows, not rehash them. If we wanted politics, we'd go join the geniuses trying to get into Wiltshire."

Lance huffed but conceded, flicking through channels until he landed on a rugby game.

"Much better," Gwaine said as a pair of wizened alchemists wandered up. "Evening Vince, Roddy, what'll you have?"

The alchemists ordered a glass of wine each as they heaved themselves up onto the barstools. Gwaine served them up and then glanced back over at the witch with a concerned look on his face.

"Another drink, Sal? On the house - we heard about your aunt, it's the least we can do."

"Ta, love," Sal said with a tired smile. "Freda was a tough old bat, bless her heart, but she couldn't outrun them forever."

"Sorry for your loss," Lance offered, pouring a generous measure of gin into a clean glass, topping it up with tonic and sliding it over.

Sal hummed sadly, taking the proffered drink. "She went out with a bang, at least. That's all she'd have wanted."

"Right proper bang, it was," Gwaine agreed. "Heard it all the way from here, bet it didn't half give the folks in Kensal Green a scare."

"You talking about old Freda?" asked one of the alchemists, who Lance recognised as Vince, glancing up from his wine. "The missus mentioned the bastards got her at last. I knew her, I did, met her one Beltane a few decades back. Off her face, she was. Gave me a bloody tail, remember that Roddy? Took ages to get the damn thing removed."

Roddy chuckled. "Remember? I was the one who had to go see her in the end to get the cure off her. Old besom way overcharged me, and she took the laces out of my left shoe. Said she needed them for a hex."

Sal gave them a wobbly smile. "Sounds like Freda. One of a kind, she was."

"An understatement if I ever heard one," Vince grinned. "I'll tell you something though, she brewed the best hangover potion I ever had. The world's lost a good'un there."

"I'll drink to that," Sal agreed, tilting her drink in his direction.

"Here, let's have a proper toast," Roddy said. "Gwaine, lad, bring out the good stuff, if you would - _put_ your _bloody_ wallet away, lass. This one's on us."

Sal returned her wallet to her pocket, blinking rapidly. "Thanks," she mumbled, obviously touched.

Roddy waved her off as Gwaine reached a bottle down off the top shelf and took out three tumblers.

"Here, you boys have a drink for yourselves as well," Vince added, digging a handful of notes and coins from his pocket.

"Just the one, mind," Gwaine warned even as he obediently took out a couple of extra glasses. "We're on the clock, after all."

"Come on Gwaine, if you can't drink on the job when you own the place, when the hell can you?" Lance joked, feeling pleased with himself when the comment drew another watery chuckle out of Sal.

Gwaine poured out a finger of whiskey in each glass, and the air around the five grew quiet and serious as they each took one up. Some of the other patrons in the vicinity seemed to pick up on it and quietened down themselves, looking over curiously.

"To Freda," Sal said into the hush, raising her glass, her voice now solemn and clear of tears.

"Freda," the others echoed, their voices a low rumble that carried across the room.

They drank; Lance did his best not to cough as the whiskey went down, burning his throat and warming his chest.

Across the room, a cheer went up from a group of sorcerers over by the darts board, and the moment broke.

"Right then - we should get back to work," Gwaine said with a final glance at Sal, who nodded and waved them off gently.

"Ta, Gwaine. You too, Lance."

Lance smiled at her and the alchemists and grabbed a tray to collect empties in before he wandered off. By the time he made his way back around the room, the trio's reminiscing had drawn in a small crowd of people from around the pub, most of whom appeared to have known Freda and wanted to give their condolences.

Before long, Sal was smiling properly and Gwaine was pouring the lot of them more drinks. He stepped back with a satisfied grin and caught Lance's questioning look.

"This is what it's for, mate," he explained quietly, gesturing towards the group of well-wishers clustered around Sal. "People, stories, memories - that's what matters. That's what they can't take away, no matter how many bloody bills they pass. D'you see?"

Lance watched as a tipsy palm reader regaled the group with a tale about Freda, a dodgy antiques dealer and a cursed Victorian teapot that screamed loudly whenever it was used. He nodded slowly.

"I think I'm starting to."

********

Arthur stared at the door. The door stared back.

Never before had tasteful oak panelling incited such a deep sense of foreboding.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come," called the voice from within.

Arthur forced himself to turn the handle and open the door before he could talk himself out of it.

"You wanted to see me, father?"

"Ah, yes, Arthur. Come in," Uther said, glancing up from the paperwork on his desk and waving him forward. "Shut the door behind you, please."

Arthur did as he was told and steeled himself as he approached the desk, hovering uncertainly for a moment until Uther gestured for him to sit.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked threateningly as Uther finished scanning a document and scratched a signature at the bottom. He put his pen down and looked up, regarding his son over steepled fingers.

When he showed no sign of speaking, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Was - was there something the matter, father?"

"Not as such, no," Uther replied. "It simply occurred to me that we haven't spoken much recently, and I wanted to know how you were getting on."

"I'm fine," Arthur said, mildly startled. He couldn't remember the last time his father had wanted to speak to him simply to inquire after his wellbeing.

"You're sure? Nothing worrying you?"

"No, father."

"Your workload is acceptable?"

"Yes, father."

Uther nodded. There was a small smile playing about the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were calculating. Arthur grimaced internally. He knew that look - Uther was building up to something.

"I wonder then, Arthur," he began. "If you are not worried about anything, and you are not weighed down with work, why I'm getting reports of you acting strangely around the office?"

"Strangely, father?"

"Yes, Arthur, strangely. You've been distracted. Missing meetings. Lingering around departments you don't normally frequent - engineering, for example. Research and development."

Arthur willed his expression not to flicker as his stomach dropped into his shoes.

 _Don't fuck this up,_ ordered the voice at the back of his mind.

"I'm sorry if my performance has been inadequate, sir," he said carefully, pleased with how even his voice sounded. "I admit I did miss one meeting - there was a misunderstanding with my schedule. The mistake has been rectified, it won't happen again."

Uther raised an eyebrow but seemed willing to let the matter drop. "And the rest of it?" he asked.

Arthur took a deep breath and tried not to make it obvious how his heart was hammering in his chest. "I've simply been trying to gain a broader understanding of how the company works by visiting some of the departments I rarely cross paths with in my work. After all, if I'm to inherit the company, surely I'll need a presence as - ah - omniscient as yours is. It wouldn't do for me to have people running amok under my nose simply because I have no experience in dealing with their area of expertise."

He noted the self-satisfied spark in Uther's eyes at the word 'omniscient' with some derision and forced his expression into one of respectful sincerity under his father's scrutinizing gaze.

Finally, Uther nodded. "Very well," he said. "I understand your reasoning. But I'm afraid I cannot let your behaviour continue in this manner. I will have your duties adjusted to give you a more well-rounded experience of the company, if that is what you wish. Perhaps we can set up some one-on-one time with Agravaine - he is your uncle, after all. It may be good for you to spend more time with him."

"Thank you, father."

"But Arthur," Uther leaned forward suddenly, his face stony and eyes chilling. "If I find you have been prying where you don't belong, do not think for one moment you will not face consequences. You are my son, but you are also my employee. I will not tolerate disobedience."

Arthur swallowed. "Yes, sir."

Uther paused and looked down briefly before he spoke again. "Please understand," he said. "It is for your own good as well as the good of the company that I say this. There are... certain aspects of the work we do here which require a huge amount of responsibility and commitment. I need to be sure that you are capacitated to handle such matters before I can burden you with them."

Arthur stared at his father, fighting to repress the stream of questions building in his throat.

_This is all you've been raising me for? To commit myself to this massacre in the same way you have?_

_Do you genuinely care for me at all? Or are you just concerned that I'm not yet sufficiently indoctrinated to continue your vendetta for you?_

_Am I your son? Or am I just another of your weapons?_

_Do you even know the difference?_

"I understand, father."


	2. Foresight is Always Important

**September 1990**

"Merlin, sweetheart, bathtime!" Hunith called, turning off the taps and testing the water with her elbow before she went to find her son, drying her arm on the hem of her shirt as she went.

The house was small, but Merlin had been finding more and more ways to get into trouble ever since he'd started walking. Hunith dreaded the day he worked out how to open doors - it was bad enough that her little boy blew up pillows when he had a tantrum and floated a few centimetres off the ground when he laughed hard enough. The thought of him going outside, without her there to watch him and keep him calm...

She pushed down the ever-present fear and followed the sound of Merlin's voice, the half-formed words and chirps that had become so constant and reassuring, to the airing cupboard, and chuckled as she whisked open the door.

"Merlin, what on earth are you doing in h... oh."

Hunith trailed off as she took in the sight before her. Merlin was sat on the floor of the cupboard, surrounded by piles of towels and sheets he'd obviously pulled off the shelves, babbling happily and clutching what looked awfully like a -

But it couldn't be. Balinor had been rash, yes, but he wouldn't have been that stupid.

But then, he'd been in a hurry. Scared out of his mind. Grieving. Not thinking straight.

And he wouldn't have risked moving it. He'd have wanted to keep something like this close by...

Oh, hell.

"Darling," she managed in a strangled voice. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Egg!" Merlin said happily. "Egg, egg, egg."

He patted the dragon's egg carefully, a proud look on his face.

Hunith sank to her knees next to her son, hands over her mouth, too shocked to do anything but stare. Incredulous laughter bubbled up in her chest, coming out choked and muffled.

"The airing cupboard, Balinor?" she said to the air. "Really? That's the best hiding place you could come up with?"

There was no answer. She hadn't expected there to be.

Merlin appeared to notice her presence at last, because he beamed at her. "Mum," he said. "'Ook - egg!"

"Yes, darling, egg," Hunith agreed distractedly while she frantically tried to work out what to do. She should really phone Gaius, but the landline was downstairs, and she didn't want to leave Merlin alone with the... thing.

"Right," she said, coming to a decision. "Come on, young man, we need to talk to your uncle. Put the egg down and we'll-"

"Noo!" Merlin half-screeched as she tried to gently pry the egg out of his grasp, wrapping his little arms and legs around it. "Egg!"

"Merlin, please just let go of it," Hunith begged.

Merlin shook his head insistently and rubbed his cheek against the shimmery white surface. "No, no. Egg. Foosa."

"What?" Hunith asked blankly.

"Foosa!" Merlin repeated.

There was a tiny crackling noise. Merlin drew back slightly and giggled. Hunith watched in horror as a small crack appeared in the top of the egg. Followed by another. And another.

"Foosa!" Merlin exclaimed elatedly.

A piece of shell broke away.

"Oh gods," Hunith said weakly as the little white nose poked though the broken fragments.

The dragon chirped.

********

A short while later, Gaius answered the phone.

"Hello?" he said gruffly, rubbing his neck to ease out the crick he'd gotten from falling asleep at his desk.

"Gaius," Hunith said in a tightly controlled voice. "I need you to come to Ealdor. Bring some friends. And a pet carrier. A strong one. With a padlock."

"Hunith?" Gaius frowned. "What's wrong?"

On the other end of the line, he could hear his nephew laughing in the background. Something crashed. It sounded and awful lot like the cutlery drawer being emptied out onto the kitchen floor.

"So many things, Gaius," Hunith said morosely, over the sound of wings flapping. "So many things."

********

**December 2008**

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Merlin asked, eyeing the blueprints and floorplans spread before him with apprehension.

"Not even slightly," Arthur replied briskly, not taking his eyes off the notebook he was scribbling in. "How many guards do you think you can keep unconscious at once? And how big is the risk of them waking up?"

Merlin thought for a moment, and shrugged. "Depends. I can do a spell before we go in that will actively keep them under, brings the chances of them waking up down to almost zero, but that takes a lot of focus and energy. Or I could just knock them out as needed when we come across them, but that leaves a risk of them waking up at any moment, not to mention the possibility of the ones who are conscious finding them and raising the alarm."

Arthur frowned, considering. "Shouldn't be a problem, as long as we time it right with their schedules and no one sees our faces. They won't see our faces, will they?"

"They won't," Merlin assured him. "Even if someone catches on and gets the CCTV working again before we're out, we'll just be blobs of unidentifiable pixels. I'm good at distortions, had a lot of practice. Can turn us basically invisible, if we need it."

Arthur nodded and they fell quiet again, staring at the papers scattered on the floor in front of them from where they were sat cross-legged against the wall of Merlin's basement flat that had the fewest damp spots.

They'd been sat like this for hours now, going over and over different contingency plans, memorising guard schedules and routes through the building, bouncing ideas back and forth. It was nice, Merlin thought, to work with someone for a change, to have a partner instead of a handler. Even if said partner periodically descended into minor existential crises about how rapidly he was growing accustomed to working with magic, going against everything he'd been raised to believe.

That hadn't happened in at least five hours, though. Merlin was keeping track.

"Tell me again why we even need distortions?" he asked. "You got in to see Kilgharrah without being seen, why can't we just go the same way you did then?"

"Because that way involved a lot of covert favours and crawling through air vents, and a fake security pass," Arthur said. "There's no way it'd work twice, and trying it with more than one person is just impractical. Plus, I didn't have to make a detour to the cells last time."

Merlin nodded his understanding and returned his attention to the floorplan, focusing on the area they were almost certain Freya was being held in. He wasn't sure what emotions his expression was betraying, but whatever it was made Arthur grimace sympathetically when he saw what Merlin was looking at.

"We'll get your friend out, I promise," he said. "Freya, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"How long have you known her?"

"Not sure - since we were kids, I suppose, although we've only actually met a few times, at Beltane and that. But she's important to Aithusa, and that makes her important to me."

"And Aithusa's the-"

"The other dragon, yeah."

"Right. Sorry, but how did that even happen?"

Merlin frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"You've got to admit, it's odd, a dragon and a - what did you say she was, a Bastet, being best friends."

"They're not just best friends, though," Merlin said. "They're... to be honest, I'm not sure what they are."

He paused, casting about for the right words. Arthur waited.

"They were raised together, see, in the druid camps," Merlin explained. "They gave Aithusa a human form when she was a hatchling so they could hide her better, and they kept her at one of their most isolated locations. Then when Freya got cursed, they sent her to the same place, and - I don't know. They bonded."

"Over what? It's not like they've got much in common, from what you've told me."

"Over this... this limbo they're both in. Not quite human, not quite animal. Too wild for society, too civilised for the wild. It's a lonely life. But as long as they have each other, they're not alone, see?"

Arthur's eyes took on a faraway look. Merlin tried to read his expression - there was something almost wistful to it. Something sad.

"People will do a lot, to not be alone," Arthur mumbled after a moment.

Merlin stopped trying to guess what Arthur was thinking about, and nodded instead. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, they will."

********

Iseldir pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. There was a sharp ache building behind his eyes, and the room full of quarreling druids wasn't helping.

"People, please," he tried.

He was ignored.

"Gaius doesn't have a clue what he's doing anymore!" shouted a delegate from the Scottish highlands. "His lot are just muddling along, plugging leaks as they come, they don't have a plan for how they'll actually end this!"

"You don't know that!" retorted a member of the Welsh party. "Just because Gaius hasn't taken the time to explain his entire thought process to you in particular-"

"So you're saying you know what he's doing?" challenged one of the Cornish, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," said the Welsh one - Ffion or something, Iseldir thought. "I'm just saying, obviously they're not going to be spreading their plans around for everyone to hear, that's just plain idiotic."

"Listen, it doesn't matter what Gaius is doing," interjected an ambassador from Northern Ireland. "He's a bit of an eejit, fine, but at least he's not power-mad like Morgause and her lot, and if we're picking a side-"

"I don't know what you think power-mad looks like, Kian, but I'm pretty sure it resembles Uther Pendragon a hell of a lot more than a woman who's fighting for her people's liberation."

"You sure that's what she's doing, though? Because last I heard she was snooping around the British Museum archives of all places, and what the hell a bunch of crumbling old pots have to do with liberation I don't know-"

"So you're saying just because you don't understand what she's trying to do, it has to be wrong?"

"Why not? That's what you're doing with Gaius, you Scottish twa-"

"Alright!" Iseldir snapped, rewarded this time with instant silence. "Let's not drag nationalities into this on top of everything else, or we'll be here all week."

"Give over, Iseldir," the Scotsman grouched. "We all know who you'll be siding with anyway - come to think of it, why hasn't Gaius told you all about his grand plan? You're the best of pals, after all."

Iseldir glared at him. "Gaius knows as well as the rest of us how the battlegrounds are shifting. His plans are constantly changing to adjust to the context, and it makes no sense for him to be constantly updating people he doesn't need to be updating. So no, I don't know what exactly he's planning at this moment. I do, however, trust him."

"How can you trust him, you literally just said he's changing his plans every half hour!" someone exclaimed. "Gods above, Iseldir-"

"The last thing anyone can hope to be in the present climate is consistent," Iseldir barked. "Which is exactly why we need to hold onto what little stability we already have - and that means avoiding a schism at all costs. The pressure's building. I'm sure you all heard about what happened to Freda Harris?"

There was a scattering of chastised mumbling as the group deflated, sinking back into their chairs and scowling at one another.

"It only took two mercenaries to gun her down, even after she blew up their van," someone said quietly. "Iseldir's right. We can't split now."

"What's this got to do with anything?" asked someone else. "She was a strong lady, to be sure, but she was getting on a bit, they didn't call her Old Freda for nothing."

Iseldir shook his head. "I don't know how many of you knew Freda, but that woman once took a rubber bullet to the knee and a real bullet to the shoulder in the middle of a riot, and still kept going long enough to get more than twenty people to safety. If they managed to take her down with only two gunmen, it means Pendragon's updating his weapons. He knows what he's meant to be targeting. He's learning."

"What's your point?"

"The point is, it's proof of what Gaius has been saying for months now," Kian murmured. "People aren't just getting blackbagged and killed anymore. They're getting experimented on."

A shiver ran around the room.

"So maybe Gaius is right about a few things," a Cornish delegate said. "That doesn't mean he's doing enough to stop what's happening. Maybe his plan will work in the long run, maybe it won't - but wither way, it's taking too bloody long. Morgause, on the other hand-"

"Morgause doesn't give a shit about the people in the labs," Ffion, the Welshwoman, argued. "Or are we forgetting how she tried to blow them up a year ago?"

"That wasn't what she was trying to do, I heard."

"How on earth could it have been misinterpreted, Geoff? There's no nuance there."

"Oh, for - look, why don't we get Mordred in?" suggested an Anglesey druid. "He's the envoy after all, and he's probably clued in on what the sisters are up to - if he can get us information, we can make an informed decision."

"That'd be great, if we didn't all know that Morgana's got Mordred wrapped around her little finger," said an Irishwoman. "I've never seen anyone fail so badly in their duties as that boy - case in point, where is he now?"

"Siobhan's right, Mordred couldn't be impartial to save his life."

"I don't know," someone else mused. "He definitely defended the Emrys boy's actions when he stopped the explosion."

"Just because he met the literal basic requirements for doing his job-"

"This is getting nowhere," Ffion sighed. "We need to make a decision."

"Why, though?" one of the Englishmen asked suddenly. "Why do we have to pick a side at all? We're peaceful, we don't commit acts of violence, that's our oath. This shouldn't be our fight."

"He's right," said someone else. "Why should we offer ourselves up as foot soldiers in a war we didn't start? We could just retreat, go back to the forests."

"Get your head out of the sand," Kian snapped. "We're in this whether we like it or not. If we don't help and the rebellion fails, it'll just be a matter of ignoring the news and waiting to get picked off by the mercenaries."

"And if we do help and the rebellion fails, it'll just be a matter of obsessing over the news and waiting to get picked off by the mercenaries."

"So we make sure it doesn't fail," Iseldir said impatiently.

Ffion nodded. "And that means picking a side, once and for all."

"So we're back to square one, then," a Scotswoman said, rubbing her eyes.

"Back to square one. And we can't adjourn without making a decision, not again."

Iseldir sighed. "You'd all better call your families," he said. "We're going to be here for a while."

 


	3. Prison Break (In a Surprisingly Literal Sense)

Arthur was staying calm. He was definitely staying calm, and not at all trying to keep himself from throwing up.

The frigid night air bit at his cheeks. He shifted slightly where he was crouched in the shadow of a portable office outside the looming R&D block, praying that the tingling feeling in his calf wasn’t the beginnings of a cramp. He really did not want to deal with a cramp right now.

Gwen’s voice crackled over the earpieces. _“Mission control to Retrieval. Sound check.”_

“Hearing you loud and clear,” Merlin whispered.

_“What’s yours status?”_

“In position, awaiting your go.”

_“Copy.”_

Another voice cut in. _“Can we hurry this up? How long can it possibly take to cut off a few camera feeds?”_

_“Oh, for- six whole seconds, we managed to keep it professional. Have some damn patience, Gilli, I’m almost finished.”_

_“Sorry, Gwen.”_

“Remind me again why we’re using real names? What if the connection’s being tapped?” Arthur mumbled, perfectly aware that this had already been explained to him at the briefing.

To be fair, he’d been somewhat distracted by the roomful of rebels staring at him like he was a particularly interesting fungal infection.

 _“We told you, we’re monitoring for that, and we’ve got preventative measures in place,”_ Gwen said, only sounding a little bit impatient.

 _“And besides, if it turned out they had a way of getting past Merlin’s wards, we’d have a hell of a lot more to worry about than someone knowing our names, Pendragon,”_ someone added. _“I mean, if it’s that important to you, we can give you a codename. I’m partial to Prince Prat, myself.”_

“Arthur’s fine, thank you, Aithusa.”

_“You sure? It’s got alliteration.”_

_“Aithusa. Shut up.”_

_“Sorry, Gwen.”_

Arthur turned to Merlin, raising an eyebrow. Despite the dark, he could make out his sheepish expression in the harsh security lights that perpetually glared out across the industrial park.

“They’re very good, really,” Merlin whispered. “Brilliant strategists. It’s execution that’s the problem.”

 _“Speak for yourself,”_ huffed Edwin. _“I think you’ll find that some of us are brilliant in everyth-”_

_“Tell me, Ed, who was it who got knocked out by a flying wheelie bin halfway through our last mission?”_

_“Are you just going to keep bringing that up at every opportunity?”_

_“I’m insulted you even have to ask.”_

_“Aithusa, Edwin, I swear to god-”_

_“Sorry, Gwen,”_ Aithusa repeated hastily.

 _“We love you, Gwen,”_ Edwin added for good measure.

Arthur stared ahead in despair. “This is it,” he mumbled. “This is what my life has come to. How did it come to this?”

 _“I ask myself that question every single day,”_ Gwen sighed. _“Ok, I’m starting the countdown. Going dark in thirty seconds. Get ready.”_

Arthur set his jaw. In his peripheral vision, Merlin shifted forwards, his eyes glinting gold in anticipation, eyes fixed on the door he was about to break open.

“You’re sure no one will see us?” he asked.

“I’m sure.”

The moment stretched out before them like an elastic band about to snap. Arthur was only aware of Gwen’s voice counting in his ear, and Merlin’s steady presence at his side.

The lights went out.

 _“Go,”_ Gwen said. _“Go now.”_

_********_

The surprised silence in the IT office only lasted a few moments, but in the pitch-black it seemed to last much longer. Mithian blinked hard, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but it was no use.

“…What the hell just happened?” someone whispered eventually.

“Power cut,” someone answered.

“No shit,” mumbled a disgruntled programmer. “What time is it? Will Morris have gone home already?”

“I think I’ve got his number somewhere if he has.”

“I think this’d be a bit much for Morris alone. Looks like the whole park’s gone out,” said an intern from over by the window, twitching the blinds out of the way. “Every building. Even the streetlights. It’s all dark.”

“Can you not make anything out?” Mithian asked, moving across the room to join him, cautious in the dim blueish glow as people started to switch on their phones by way of torches.

“Nothing. Moon’s gone in and all.”

“Landlines are dead,” someone supplied. “Can anyone get a signal?”

“Nothing.”

“Isn’t there usually a few bars in here at least?”

“Maybe it’s being blocked.”

“Fuck.”

“This is bad. This is really, really bad.”

Mithian sensed the rising note of panic in the room and snapped into action. “Everybody stay calm,” she barked, feeling a small flush of satisfaction when everyone instantly paused. “Panicking will get us nowhere. You, intern – start getting up on chairs and tables, see if you can find us a signal.”

“On it,” the intern said, immediately climbing up on the nearest desk.

“Thank you.” Mithian glanced around the room, trying to make out faces. “Someone else – Gavin, you’ll do – get down to the president’s offices, see if you can find out what’s happening and what they want us to do.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Gavin asked, squinting against the obnoxiously bright light of the built-in torch on his phone.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Mithian replied, looking out of the window again. “I’m sure it’s just...”

She stopped still. In the darkness, there was a hint of movement. The faintest flash of a reflective visor. She eased the window open a crack and focused, listening hard – yes, those were definitely footsteps she was hearing.

In the still night air, a radio crackled.

“Mithian? What is it?”

Mithian closed the window as quietly as she could, her heart in her throat. “Gavin, on second thoughts, stay where you are. Intern, get off the desk. No one leaves this room.”

The intern scrambled to the floor. Mithian could feel the eyes of the entire room on her, watching her apprehensively.

“What is it? What can you see?”

“Everyone needs to stay very, very calm,” Mithian breathed, not taking her eyes off the ripple of black against black as the men marched through the buildings. “I think the park is under attack. He’s called in the mercenaries.”

********

“There they go,” Gwen murmured, watching the nearest of the numerous screens spread out in front of her. “Interference is in progress. Gilli, Edwin, are your blocks all in place?”

“ _Holding steady_ ,” Edwin confirmed. _“They’re replicating what you’ve done to R &D perfectly, but they won’t last as long. Maybe half an hour.”_

“We won’t need more than half an hour if this works as planned,” Gaius said, walking aimlessly around control room and ignoring the slightly annoyed looks he was getting from Alice. “The mercenaries?”

_“Converging on the centre, like we thought. We’re clearing the scene, we’ll find a vantage point to watch from in case you lose visual.”_

“Perfect.”

Gwen double-checked that the mercenaries weren’t changing their route or splitting up and nodded, satisfied. “Decoy, you’re up.”

Aithusa’s laugh was no less unsettling over a shaky radio connection than it was in person.

_“Finally.”_

_********_

The guard gave a little sigh as he slid down the wall he was leaning on and keeled over onto the floor with a muffled thud.

“Nice one,” Arthur whispered, impressed, venturing forward to prod the man with his foot. “Blimey. He’s out cold.”

“Well, yeah,” Merlin replied under his breath. “I did say I know what I’m doing.”

Arthur didn’t reply, just sighed and tugged at Merlin’s sleeve to indicate they should start walking again. They moved off along the corridor, keeping their footsteps as light as possible, feeling their way along walls and through doors.

“You’re sure we’re going in the right direction?”

“A few more feet and we can check. If I’m right, there should be an alcove right about – yes. Ok, give us a light.”

Merlin conjured a mage light in his palm, illuminating the empty corridor so they had just enough to see by, but dim enough that it wouldn’t be seen from around any corners.

“Ok,” Arthur nodded. “We need to take the next left and three more rights, and then there’s a set of doors. There’ll be another guard waiting on the other side, so stay alert.”

“Got it,” Merlin nodded. Then he caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and froze, sucking in a sharp breath.

“What?” Arthur asked instantly.

“Movement,” Merlin said, his voice tight with panic. “There’s - oh, wait.” He relaxed. “It’s just our shadows.”

He waggled his fingers and watched his shadow wave back, chuckling at his own overreaction. He turned to grin at Arthur, and found him glaring back, looking extremely unimpressed.

“Are you quite finished?”

“Right. Sorry.”

He put the light out, plunging them back into darkness, and they silently shuffled off around the corner.

********

Uther was crazed. That was the only word Cenred could come up with to describe what he was seeing. The man was pacing the length of his office, practically frothing at the mouth with fury, eyes swinging from side to side like a spooked horse, snarling orders into his phone and over the intercom, causing the huddle of terrified techs and security guards to flinch every time he opened his mouth.

“THE SHEER LEVEL OF YOUR INCOMPETENCE IS ASTOUNDING!” Uther bellowed. “HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?”

“Sir!” one of the security guards tried to protest. Cenred shook his head minutely. Poor bastard. “Sir, we truly apologise for the lapse, but the fact is, we had absolutely no warning, the attack came out of nowhere!”

Uther turned his incensed glare on him and the guard closed his mouth abruptly, shrinking back against the wall.

“Cenred!” Uther barked suddenly, wheeling around. Cenred automatically snapped to attention, his body responding in the same way it used to in boot camp, training under that particularly fearsome drill sergeant. “Where are your men now?”

“They are converging on the centre of the park with the intention of moving outwards from there in smaller units, trying to pinpoint the main focus of the attack,” Cenred said quickly. “We believe the power-cut is an attempt to hide one stain among many, if you will. They are under orders to remain vigilant in case of decoys and illusions, so as to not have a repeat of the Colne Valley incident, sir.”

“See that there isn’t,” Uther growled. “I will not tolerate the same mistake again. One more slip up, and I will see that your entire programme is scrapped, mark my words.”

“Of course, sir,” Cenred nodded, forcing his face into an expression of chastisement, safe in the knowledge that Uther wouldn’t last a day without the mercenaries at his back. The terror those black uniforms instilled in the general population, the sheer effectiveness of their weapons, specially designed and unauthorised for use by any other law-enforcement body in the country, in the _world_ …

Uther knew as well as he did that the mercenaries were Camelot Tech’s largest asset at this point. Even with his pull in the army and police force, Uther would never achieve the same level of control, the same ability to bend the law to his will like a blade of grass. Cenred was safe.

He made sure his satisfied smirk remained internal. He’d had a lot of practice at that.

********

 _“Unit three, status report,”_ the CO’s voice barked over the comms.

“Nothing yet, sir,” Pellinor said, glancing back over his shoulder at the rest of the unit. “Still moving forwards, there’ve been no attempts to misdirect us yet.”

_“Call in immediately with any changes.”_

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir,” one of Pellinor’s inferiors asked from behind. “Sorry. Just. What exactly are we meant to be looking for?”

“Anything out of the ordinary,” Pellinor replied shortly. “And no smart answers about this whole situation being out of the ordinary, thank you. Use your damn brains.”

“Yes, sir,” said the man. “So – sorry, sir, if this is a stupid question, but would you say that noise counts as out of the ordinary?”

Pellinor opened his mouth to answer, but stopped short as his ears finally caught what he should have heard right away – the sound of leathery wings flapping through the air. He looked around. There was nothing visible, nothing…

Except that huge, shadowy shape speeding towards them from above.

The wind picked up. Pellinor swore.

“ _Move!”_ he shouted, just as the inferno came blazing down on them.

********

“As soon as this war’s over, we’re putting Aithusa in anger management,” Alice said firmly as she and Gaius watched the mercenaries scatter like ants on the screen, some of them falling to the ground to be swallowed by the flames.

“Agreed,” Gaius said with a fervent nod.

“But I’m glad to see the modifications we made to her distortions are working. Are you sure no one noticed you copying the weapons’ schematics?”

“My dear, you insult me.”

“What can I say? You’re getting old, darling.”

“Not so old that I can’t still be stealthy,” Gaius told her with what he probably thought was a rakish grin.

Gwen rolled her eyes at them and turned back to the radio. “Retrieval, status report?”

 _“Almost there,”_ Arthur said. _“As long as Merlin stops panicking at the sight of his own shadow-”_

_“Gods above, am I ever going to live that down?”_

_“Hah. Not in a million years.”_

_********_

The IT office was frozen in terror, keeping as far back from the windows as possible as the flames blasted across the sky, lighting up the room again and again like fireworks.

“That’s… that’s a dragon, isn’t it,” someone said from the centre of the huddle that had formed. “The dragons are back.”

“Not necessarily,” someone replied in a voice that was far too hoarse with dread to be comforting. “Looks like it’s just the one. They’ll shoot it down soon enough and that’ll be that.”

The huddle tightened as yet another horrifying roar shook the building, closely followed by more panicked yelling from the mercenaries.

“Are you willing to bet on that, Gavin?”

********

The Bastet swung her head from side to side, panting heavily as it glared, her yellow eyes burning and fearsome in the dim glow of the mage light.

“Freya,” Merlin started, taking tentative step forwards, only to duck back towards the far wall of the cell when she swiped at him with a huge paw.

Arthur let out a sort of stifled yelp, pressing himself back against the door they’d just passed through. “I thought you had a spell for this?” he hissed.

“I do – I just, I wanted to give her the chance to do it voluntarily. It’s a violation, changing someone’s shape like that without consent.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Arthur said firmly, eyes on the Bastet as she let out an ominous, rumbling growl. “We’re running out of time. Do it now, make up for it later.”

Merlin fought down his discomfort with a nod and took a deep breath, raising his hands and closing his eyes.

He whispered a few words, and the air shivered.

Before either of them could blink, the monster was gone, replaced by a scrawny, filthy young woman, dressed in a threadbare sort of smock, crouched on the floor and watching them as warily as the cat had been, her eyes huge and brown and clouded with terror.

“Freya,” Merlin repeated, moving forwards again but stopping before he got too close, his hands held out in a gesture of peace. “It’s me, Merlin. D’you remember me?”

Freya gazed at him. She licked her lips and nodded slowly. “Been a while,” she rasped in a low, underused voice. “Why are you…”

“We’re here to get you out,” Merlin said.

Freya made a strange noise, a kind of strangled sob, and used the wall to pull herself up to her feet, legs shaking visibly. “Are you real?” she whispered, taking a tiny step forwards, listing heavily to one side. “Are you here?”

“I’m here,” Merlin said softly. He extended a hand, palm turned up, an offer.

Freya hesitated, but reached out herself, visibly sagging with relief when her fingertips brushed his and found them solid. A few tears spilled down her cheeks and she tangled her fingers through his, clutching tight.

“What’s the plan?” she asked in a whisper. “I can’t… I’ll be no help, I’m too weak now.”

Merlin shook his head. “I’ve got it covered,” he said, letting his eyes flash gold once more. He sent a few strains of his magic into her, letting the warmth and strength flow from his bones to hers like warm honey.

Freya shuddered and straightened, letting out a long breath. Her legs steadied, her shoulders settled and her eyes cleared.

“Oh gods, thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you, Merlin.”

“It’s only temporary,” Merlin warned. “Long enough to get us down to the basement and then out with Kilgharrah. Once we’re out, we’ll get you sorted regaining your own strength, your own magic, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Freya nodded. She wasn’t smiling, but hope was shining out of her face like a beacon. “Wait – Kilgharrah as in the dragon?”

“This is touching and all,” Arthur said from where he was hovering by the door. “But we really, really need to go.”

“Right,” Merlin muttered. “Get over here, I need to redo your distortions. You too, Freya.”

“How long will it take them to realise I’m gone?” Freya asked as he worked, tipping her head back and letting the magic wash over her as if she were taking a hot shower.

“We’ll be clear by then,” Merlin promised. “Gwen’s shut down most of the cameras, and redirected the rest of the feeds to HQ, and Aithusa’s keeping everybody nice and distracted. She’ll meet us back at the safe house when she’s done,” he added, fondness sparking in his chest at the way Freya’s eyes lit up.

“Gods, this is the best day,” Freya murmured. “Also. Who’s this?”

“Oh, right – that’s Arthur. He’s, um. He’s going to take a lot of explaining.”

Freya huffed something that was very close to being a laugh. “That’s ok,” she said. “I’ll wait ‘til we’re not running for our lives.”

********

_“This is retrieval – phase one is complete. Freya says hi.”_

“At the risk of spreading alarm and despondency,” Gwen said over Gaius and Alice’s relieved laughter. “I literally cannot believe this plan is working.”

 _“Go big or go home,”_ Merlin replied cheerfully. _“Initiating phase two. Are the decoys still working?”_

Gwen watched the mercenaries speed about on the monitors and resisted the urge to hum the Benny Hill theme. “They’re working,” she assured him. “You might want to have a chat with Aithusa at some point about enjoying her work just a _little_ too much.”

********

“Finally! I thought you’d never get here!” Kilgharrah boomed, his voice echoing off the walls of the cavern.

“Gods,” Merlin breathed, staring up at him with awe verging on terror. “Gods, gods, ok. Kilgharrah, Great Dragon-”

“Merlin, Son of Balinor,” the dragon replied, sketching a hasty bow with his head, which Merlin returned. “Good, we can skip the rest of the pleasantries. Time is of the essence. Your plan will not work.”

“Shite,” Merlin cursed, ignoring how Arthur and Freya were gazing back and forth between them, incredulous. “You’re sure?”

“I can see every possible course of action and their outcomes. The power required to shrink me down will take too much of your focus to be able to escape at the same time – the mercenaries will capture you as you attempt to leave the park.”

 _“Shite,”_ Merlin repeated more forcefully. “What’s our best option?”

“Weaken the stone in which the chain holding me is embedded as much as you can – you won’t be able to break the chain itself – and the three of you climb on my back. Divert some of your power into me, that I may be able fly at a sufficient speed. Put up a shield around yourselves and hold on tight. I should be able to gain enough momentum to pull the chain free as we take off. We’re going to have to break through the cave’s ceiling.”

“That’ll bring the whole building down!” Arthur protested. “All the people in the cells-”

Kilgharrah glared impatiently. “I am aware humans have limited eyesight in comparison to dragons, but surely you can see that this cave covers a much larger area than the building above?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “We’re surrounded by buildings,” he said evenly. “There’s civilians in some. Will you manage this without hurting anyone?”

The dragon ruffled himself, scales clicking, obviously irritated. “I have very good aim,” he said.

********

“This is Unit 3 requesting assistance,” Pellinor gasped into his radio again, using his free hand to hold pressure on a squad member’s leg wound, and trying not to faint at the amount of blood spilling between his fingers. “Please – urgent assistance required at the north-west exit, I’ve got multiple casualties, we need-”

He broke off once more and ducked as the dragon roared louder than ever, unable to stifle his shout of pain as the movement pulled at the burns on his back and arm. His radio crackled with static, mocking him with the lack of response.

“Please,” he tried again, hearing the desperation in his own voice and hating it. “If anyone can hear me, I repeat, multiple casualties-”

He froze at yet another loud rumble – but this one didn’t come from the air. It came from below.

“Oh, fuck,” was all he managed before the ground exploded.

********

It was rather like breaking the surface of the pool after a particularly deep dive, Arthur thought absently as they smashed through the wall of solid rock and emerged unscathed, rubble bouncing off Merlin’s shield and the world blurring horribly as they soared off into the night, wobbling a little with the weight of the chain still hanging off the dragon’s ankle.

He tightened his arms around Freya, who in turn was holding onto Merlin in front of her and starting to sag, the borrowed strength already draining from her limbs. There were several wayward scales sticking in some very uncomfortable places, and he couldn’t hear or see anything as the wind screamed past the bubble protecting them.

“Is everyone ok?” Merlin shouted over the noise.

“Fine!” Arthur shouted back.

“Mostly fine!” Freya agreed, a little more faintly.

“What about on the ground, did we hurt anyone?”

Arthur chanced a glace over his shoulder. The industrial park was too dark to see, and the surrounding lights of London were dazzling and distracting.

“Can’t tell, we’re going too fast!” he called.

“Fuck’s sake,” Merlin groaned. “Kilgharrah, do you even know where you’re going?”

The dragon didn’t answer, but Arthur could practically hear his haughty expression.

They kept flying.

********

“Damn, damn, damn,” Gwen mumbled, both hands over her mouth. “That was _so not the plan.”_

Gaius stared, frozen, at the carnage being shown on the monitor. Alice was shaking.

“Why would they do that, of all the options?” she asked, wringing her hands. “Surely Merlin wouldn’t have intended…”

“I think,” Gaius said slowly. “That Kilgharrah is just as bloodthirsty as we thought he’d be, and more conniving than any of us suspected.”

On the screen, more of the ground gave way. Another building crumbled.

Across the room, the radio crackled. _“Um,”_ came Edwin’s voice. _“So we’re not sure if you lot still have eyes on the situation, but in case you don’t…”_

 _“We thought you should know that the dragon just punched a hole through the ground,”_ Gilli continued. _“There’s a lot of… um. There’s a lot of death happening right now.”_

 _“We don’t want to freak anyone out,”_ Edwin added. _“But I’m guessing this’ll have a few ramifications.”_  

 

 

 

 


	4. So That Went Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so here's the thing. This is a very lazy chapter that I might come back and edit/finish later, but honestly this story is getting ridiculously long and unwieldy and I don't have the energy to keep trying to write it for now. This installment is the third of about seven, and this plot isn't getting any less complicated any time soon. Plus I'm not actually sure I'd be able to follow what's happening if I wasn't the one writing it, you know? like idk if I'm making certain things clear enough and everything is very messy and yeah, just. it's lots of work and I'm low on motivation rn. 
> 
> I've got other writing projects going down that I want to put more work into, so you might see more there, but this series is probably going on a very very long hiatus now. Thanks to those of you who stuck with it and to those who left feedback, ily <3

 

Elena snorted awake to a thundering crash that reverberated through the old farm house and send several pans sliding off the rickety shelves she’d managed to somewhat mostly attach to her kitchen walls. She leapt to her feet with an undignified sort of screech-howl that made her sincerely grateful that she lived alone and tried to check her watch, before she remembered that she’d dropped it in the bath last week.

“What the arsing god in a bloody fucking carton,” she mumbled, stumbling over to the back door and flinging it open, haphazardly pulling on her boots as she went.

The dragon in her garden had already knocked over a couple of damson trees and collapsed onto the overgrown grass, breathing heavily and not moving. Merlin was carefully sliding down from his back, alongside Arthur Pendragon. The two of them were supporting a frail, shaking woman between them.

“I thought you were shrinking him down!” Elena yelled as she charged over, managing not to trip when she realised she’d put her wellies on the wrong feet.

“Wasn’t going to work,” Merlin huffed in reply once she’d reached them. “Had to move fast, couldn’t see another way, there was too much happening.”

“I know the feeling. How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad. Kilgharrah’s going to need healing spells and poultice for his scales pronto, Gaius said he left some stuff with you-?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll take care of it. What about – hi, sorry, you must be Freya. How’re you feeling?”

“Hi,” Freya whispered in return. “I don’t… I don’t feel right, I can’t, nothing’s felt right since…”

She broke off with a horrible, jarring shudder, almost falling to the ground as she retched. Merlin and Arthur scrambled to catch her.

“Merlin, can’t you do that thing you did in the cell?” Arthur asked, his voice sharp with stress.

“It’s like putting a plaster on an amputated limb,” Merlin replied, hoisting Freya close and rubbing a comforting hand up and down her arm. “She needs to be able to access her own magic again, and for that we need to get her physical strength up.”

“That I can definitely do,” Elena said, beckoning and leading them back towards the house. “Come on, get her out of the cold. Mr Dragon, I’ll be back to tend to you in half a tick.”

The dragon didn’t answer, just let out a rumbling breath that blasted away a lot of the blackberries from Elena’s hedgerow.

Elena shut the door behind them as soon as they were inside and directed them around until Freya was huddled in a comfy chair next to the aga, where it was warmest, wrapped in approximately three dozen blankets and Merlin, and still shivering.

“Here, Mr Pendragon, there’s a pan of soup in the fridge, take it out and heat it up on the stove if you would,” Elena ordered as respectfully as possible, draping another knitted shawl over Freya’s lap and moving away to fill the kettle. “Slice some bread as well, knife’s on the draining board, butter’s in the dish over there.”

“Is that your leek and potato soup?” Merlin asked, raising his head hopefully. “Cures everything, that soup does,” he added to Freya. “And I mean literally everything, we’ve had to stop giving it to Edwin because he gets that weird look in his eye.”

Freya made a feeble noise that might have been a laugh, had it not come from a body that had less structural integrity than a paper aeroplane in a rainstorm.

Then she stopped.

“Did. Ah. Did you just say Pendragon?”

Everyone else in the kitchen froze. Freya was staring at Arthur with a look of blank terror on her face. Arthur had a matching expression, though his head was in the fridge so Freya couldn’t see it.

Suddenly, Elena was finding the prospect of going out into the freezing cold and tending to an enormous, injured, probably incredibly stir-crazy lizard seemed far more appealing.

“I’ll… I’ll let you guys take this one,” she said, and tripped backwards out of the door.

(And if she fell over with shock when she found the garden very suddenly empty of any dragons, well. At least no one was there to see it).

* * *

 Arthur blocked out Elena’s small, but still audible yelp of “oh shit” from outside in favour of getting the soup warmed up. This soup was the most important thing in the world and it had his fullest attention. He definitely wasn’t listening in on Merlin’s whispered, incredibly abridged explanation of why Freya was sharing a safe-house with the son of the man they were hiding from.

After a while, Freya held up a surprisingly authoritative finger to stop him talking. “I am very angry and confused about this,” she said. “But I am also so tired I can feel my kidneys yawning. So right now I’m going to eat about four gallons of that soup and then fall asleep, and you can explain all this to me again when my head isn’t full of cotton wool, okay?”

“I – yeah. Okay,” Merlin nodded.

The back door creaked open and Elena’s rumpled blonde head appeared in the gap, her face even paler than before. “Ah, Merlin? I’m not sure if you, um. Did you know that the dragon left?”

Merlin’s head snapped up. “What?”

“The dragon. Is gone. Fled. Scarpered. Vamoosed.” Elena disappeared briefly and reappeared a moment later, nodding assuredly. “Yep. Definitely gone.”

Merlin hadn’t moved. “What.”

Arthur stirred the soup determinedly. It had started to steam and bubble a little. He reached down a bowl from the cupboard above his head and set about finding a ladle.

Behind him, Merlin was disentangling himself from Freya’s nest and standing up, staring oddly into space as if listening for something no one else could hear. He let out a frustrated growl, stomped over to the door and charged outside without bothering to put his shoes back on.

Elena dithered in the doorway, looking unsure if she was meant to follow. Arthur took pity on her.

“I’ll go after him,” he told her. “I can’t find a ladle anywhere, can you-?”

“Yes good, thank you,” Elena said quickly, hurrying over to the mountain of utensils and dishes on the draining board and starting to root through them.

Arthur threw one last glance over his shoulder at Freya, but she had bundled herself so far into her blankets that she was no longer visible. He headed out into the darkness.

He found Merlin in the next field over from the house, staring up at the sky, looking more livid than Arthur had ever seen him.

For a long, tense moment, they stood in silence.

When Merlin spoke at last, every word stony and and tightly controlled, as if he was fighting to keep himself in check.

“He left. Blocked me out and left. Used his magic to break the earpieces, didn’t even fucking notice ‘til just now. He’s fucked us over. Massively.”

“You don’t know why?”

“Not yet. Got my suspicions. And it won’t be long ‘til we find out for sure.”

Arthur thought hard. “You can control him, can’t you? Gaius was saying in the briefing, you’re a… what was it called, a dragon-master?”

“Dragonlord,” Merlin grit out. “And yes, I should have control. But I’m an idiot and didn’t forbid him from leaving when we got here. And now even if I call him back, he’ll just keep finding loopholes to disobey me. Too old. Too isolated. Too fucking clever. _FUCK!”_

Arthur leapt backwards, yelling in shock as Merlin suddenly lashed out at nothing with a blinding flash of light that burned away a large amount of the grass in front of them, leaving the ground black and smoking.

“Merlin! Keep it together!”

Merlin clenched his fists, bowed his head and let out a long, shaking breath. “Sorry,” he said after a moment.

His shoulders sank a little. He paused for one, two, three breaths.

Then he threw his head back and _roared_.

* * *

 When Arthur felt safe enough that he could remove his arms from where he’d thrown them up around his head, it was to let out yet another shout of surprise when he found Aithusa looming over them in her dragon form.

That explained the sudden gale-force winds, at least. He’d thought Merlin had induced some kind of rage hurricane.

Aithusa blinked her yellow slit-eyes at him, her scales glowing luminous in the moonlight, for once not looking snarky or bored.

“You need to go back and debrief,” she said. Her voice didn’t boom in his ears like Kilgarrah’s had, but there was still a kind of push behind her voice in this form that reverberated inside Arthur’s skull and made him dizzy. “I don’t know if you two know what you did back there, but-”

Merlin had gone white. “Kilgarrah was aiming at buildings, wasn’t he,” he said blankly. “He swore he wouldn’t hit any people, he _swore-_ ”

“He lied,” Aithusa said. “We count at least two dozen dead so far, most of them mercenaries but some civilians too. The media’s having a field day, Mithian King and her father have been on the news, she was one of the only ones to make it out of the IT building.”

Merlin stumbled backwards and sat down heavily on the grass, clutching at his head. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck…”

“ _So_ not the time for freaking out,” Aithusa said impatiently. “Listen. There’s work to do. Iseldir came straight from the druid council, the schism is happening as we speak. It’s chaos.”

“ _Fuck.”_

“That’s not even the worst of it. Mordred has finally turned up, he’s pretending to mediate and everyone’s pretending like he’s not blatantly acting on behalf of the sisters-”

“We knocked down the IT building, that’s where Gwen works, I’m in there all the time-”

_“Merlin,”_ Arthur said sharply, forcing Merlin to break out of his frantic self-recriminations. “Get a grip. We were naïve and stupid to trust him. Blame the heat of the moment and how desperately we needed to get Freya out of there.”

Merlin stared at him for a long moment, and nodded. Meanwhile, Aithusa tensed. Then, very suddenly, she was human again.

Arthur averted his eyes.

“You did it then?” Aithusa asked, her voice laced with desperation. “You got her out?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said. “Yeah. She’ll be okay, I think. In time.”

They were interrupted by a thud and a quiet ‘oof’ from the edge of the field. They all turned to find Elena scrambling up off the ground, clutching a blanket in one hand. She was using the other to politely cover her eyes, although it was proven somewhat useless given that she had to peek out between her fingers to see where she was going.

“Aithusa,” she said breathlessly. “Freya heard you from the house, she’s asking for you.”

She threw the blanket as she ran, which Aithusa caught easily and wrapped around herself. “Tell her I’m coming,” she said, managing to hide the crack in her voice relatively well. She paused as Elena skidded herself around and immediately raced back towards the house. “You two should get back to HQ. Merlin, you stable enough to Disappear?”

Merlin took a few deep breaths and nodded. “I’m fine. Go and see Freya. Talk to you later.”

Aithusa raised a hand in farewell before she took off after Elena.

Merlin put his hand on Arthur’s arm and started whispering.

Before Arthur could ask what he was about to do, the field was already gone, his gut was swooping into his throat, and they were falling.  


End file.
